


A Candle in the Window

by emynn (orphan_account)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-07
Updated: 2013-12-07
Packaged: 2018-01-03 21:29:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1073260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/emynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco decides to finally tell Severus how he feels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Candle in the Window

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Adventdrabbles 2013 prompt #6: candle in the window

Draco smoothes back his hair, taking several deep breaths in a fruitless attempt to will his nerves away. It’s mad, what he is about to do. Worst case scenario, he’ll be hexed, tossed out on his rear, banished from ever seeing… seeing _him_ again. It is a punishment he’d never be able to bear.

_But if it goes well..._

If it goes well, Draco will have everything he’s ever wanted. The love of the only man who’s ever understood him, who’s ever made him feel worthy, who’s ever given a damn if he lived or died.

That thought is enough to make him knock on the door.

Severus throws the door open. Upon seeing Draco, his expression drops slightly, but he still allows him in. “Draco. I had left a message with your secretary this afternoon. Did you not receive it?”

“Oh, no,” Draco lies easily. “You know, I believe she was in the lavatory when I left today, so I must have missed it. Don’t tell me you and Potter are cancelling supper on me. I pressed my best robes.”

“I apologise,” Severus says, and takes Draco’s cloak. “But Harry didn’t make it home last night. I received word today his mission’s been extended indefinitely.”

“I’m sorry,” Draco says. “That must be difficult for you. Sitting here at home, not knowing when your… when Potter will return to you. _If_ he will return.”

“Of course he will return,” Severus snaps. He sighs. “I apologise, Draco. This is why I left the message. While I do regret cancelling our plans for supper so late, I’m afraid I’m not in the best of spirits. I doubt I’d make a decent dining companion.”

“That’s all right,” Draco says. Despite the queasiness in his stomach, he forces a smile on his face. He had known this would be difficult. Severus had been with Potter for several years. He obviously cares about him, and wouldn’t be about to throw him over so quickly. “But so long as I’m here, why don’t I keep you company? It looks like you could use somebody tonight.”

“Somebody, yes,” Severus says, so quietly Draco can barely hear him. “If you’d like,” he says, more loudly. “But I’m not even certain there’s any food in the house. I didn’t have much motivation to go to the market once I heard the news.”

Draco nods, thinking of the pot of beef stew, shrunken and sealed shut, tucked away in his briefcase. He’d made it in advance, remembering how Severus had once complimented him on the meal when he’d made it all those years ago when they were on the run. He can still do this, can still carry out his plan. He’d leave Severus in the living room so he could putter around the kitchen to find something edible, and then miraculously emerge with a hearty supper for the two of them to enjoy before the fire. And as they settled into the charmingly domestic scene, Severus would see just how well Draco could take care of him, what a devoted pair they could be together.

“Don’t you get tired of it?” Draco asks. “It seems a rather lonely way to conduct a relationship.”

“Do I wish I always knew where he was, and that he was safe? Yes.” Severus glances out the window, and Draco’s heart clenches at the way his gaze lingers, as though he expects to see Potter emerge just around the bend. “But he loves his job, and he’s quite good at it. I would never take that away from him, nor would I want to. It’s just my lot in life to be the partner of the man who lives to save the world.”

 _But what about you? Are you happy?_ The question is on the tip of his tongue, but Draco can’t bring himself to speak it out loud. 

And that, perhaps, is the maddest thing of all. Before he came here, Draco was convinced he knew Severus’ answer. He had replayed all the times Severus seemed irritated with Potter, cross-referenced them with the fights he knew they had, contemplated their years of antagonism, and he knew, he just _knew_ that Severus wasn’t truly happy with Potter. Severus wouldn’t miss him if he were gone. Draco knew Severus, in time, would see that he was a much better match for him than Potter ever could be.

But now, being in their home, and seeing Severus wander easily about the casual reminders of their relationship – photographs of the two of them on the mantel, a painting they had purchased while on holiday in Venice, a Christmas tree decorated with snakes and lions – suddenly he isn’t so sure.

Still, he has come all this way. Potter isn’t here, and he has Severus alone. The timing is right, as right as it ever could be. 

“Severus, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Oh?” Severus rummages through a drawer in a table by the couch, and pulls out a matchbox. “Well, I might not have food, but I certainly have wine. Why don’t you just allow me to light this candle and we can talk over a glass?”

Draco nods, watching as Severus lights a single candle in the front window. “That’s very Christmas-y.”

“I suppose it is,” Severus says absently, blowing out the match. “It’s one of our regular rituals, so it doesn’t have quite as many seasonal connotations for me.”

“Is that so,” Draco says. “I trust there’s some meaning behind it?”

“Of course,” Severus says. He disappears into the kitchen, and then returns with a bottle of red wine and two glasses. Draco’s heart flutters in spite of himself. “Harry read about it somewhere. Some sentimental rubbish about how a candle lit in the window symbolises the warmth and security of family, and loyalty to loved ones not at home.”

Draco’s heart stops. “Oh?”

“I light a candle every night Harry’s away,” Severus says. “I cast the necessary safety charms, of course, as to not risk the house catching fire in the middle of the night. But I know the horrors Harry sees when he’s away. I want our home to be his sanctuary. I want for the first thing Harry sees when he returns home to be a lit candle in the window, to know that his family is here, waiting for him.” He shakes his head. “I apologise. I fear the Christmas season has turned me maudlin.”

Draco’s throat feels tight. “No. That’s… beautiful. It truly is.”

“Nevertheless, I apologise. Harry will return soon enough. Now, what is it you wanted to tell me?”

_You rescued me. You **saved** me. I love you._

“It’s not important,” Draco says.

And suddenly, Draco knows that it isn’t. Severus is happy. Happy with Potter. Draco’s feelings are, as always, irrelevant. 

Severus simply isn’t his to have.

“Nonsense,” Severus says. “I’ve been rudely monopolising the conversation. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

Draco closes his eyes. It is excruciating, feeling this dream slip away from him. Even though he’d known his chances were slim, for years he’d still held onto hope, thinking that maybe, just _maybe_ something in his life would work out and he’d actually obtain his happily ever after. But clearly he has not yet atoned for all his sins as a youth. Happiness is still outside of his grasp.

“Severus?”

Draco opens his eyes just in time to see Potter enter the house and Severus take him in his arms, murmuring words of relief. While it hurts as much as ever to see them together, perhaps even more, Draco can’t take his eyes away from them. The way their bodies meld together, how they hold each other like each is the most precious thing in the world, how Severus examines Potter for injuries but Potter also looks Severus over to ensure he is safe and whole and hasn’t destroyed himself while he was away…

They are each other’s whole world.

And Draco?

Draco is just a satellite, orbiting two people whose love he is desperate to emulate, but would never touch. 

The last thing he sees before Disapparating is the candle still burning brightly in the window.

_Not mine._

_Not tonight._


End file.
